


In the Cold of Morning

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkme_merlin prompt. Set after series 2--Arthur/Leon/Merlin, bonding over surviving the dragon's attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Cold of Morning

_Heat. Burning, suffocating heat. And underneath the musty stink of reptile. The sound of cold scales sliding together. Gods, the fire—it would burn him. He could feel his skin peeling, melting, flesh sliding off to reveal white bone—_

With a gasp, Leon jerked awake. It was dark, but he could make out the dim outline of his window, feel the blankets and pillows of his bed beneath him. Heart pounding, Leon forced himself to take a deep breath, tried to relax. The dragon was gone—dead. It had just been a dream. That was all.

But lying there in the darkness, he couldn’t stop the memories. The terror of the dragon’s attacks; how the daylight hours had slid by so quickly, burdened by the crushing fear of what would happen when night fell once more; the sobs of the wounded; the dead bodies in the square. During the day, he could find distractions—talk to people, concentrate on his duties—and he could push the memories of fear and pain into the corner of his mind. But now, in the dark early morning hours there was nothing—nothing to keep the memories away.

With a sigh, Leon pushed away the covers. He struggled into his clothes, bruised ribs and tender scars protesting the movements. The dragon’s fire had burned his left arm and side. The last thing Leon remembered from that night was the roaring flames and the sudden shock as he hit the ground, thrown from his horse. He had awoken to find himself back in Camelot, Gaius tending to his injuries, the smell of smoke and charred skin heavy in the air.

Resolutely, Leon pushed the thought away. He would go for a walk—escape the dark loneliness of his chambers. Pushing open the door, he strode quickly down the corridor. It was already growing lighter—the walls of the castle emerging from the night, taking on shape and color. Leon shivered as he walked out onto the battlements. The air was chilly, the stones wet with dew. Tendrils of mist curled up from the moat. Rubbing his arms, he paced along the wall, trying to fill his mind with thoughts of home. He had received a letter from his brother just yesterday. It sounded as though their little sister might be receiving an offer of marriage soon. Leon found it hard to believe—the last time he had seen her she had still seemed so young, giggling and teasing him about the beard he had grown.

Leon turned a corner and paused. There was someone up ahead, leaning against the wall. He took a few steps closer and realized that it was Merlin. He was staring blankly out over the courtyard, shoulders slumped, his hair in disarray as though he had been running his fingers through it.

Merlin—Arthur’s servant. A servant who was willing to break the king’s command to calm a furious, grief-stricken prince. A servant willing to face a dragon at his master’s side.

Leon had been shocked to see Merlin clamber up onto a horse as they prepared to ride out to battle the dragon. He had pulled Arthur aside, whispered, “Sire, you cannot possibly allow him to come with us.”

Arthur’s hand had tightened on the saddle. He glanced at Merlin and his face, which was set in grim, hard lines, had softened for a moment. “He would not stay,” Arthur had replied. “Even if I ordered him to. He would not stay.”

How Merlin had survived, Leon did not know, but clearly the entire ordeal had left its mark on him—as it had on Leon. Every time Leon had seen Merlin over the past few weeks, he had been pale, quiet, withdrawn. Just like now. Leon glanced in the direction Merlin was looking—out at one of the ruined, crumbled towers. It brought a flash of memory—of screaming, heavy stones crashing to the ground as the dragon roared overhead. Shuddering, Leon tore his eyes away. He stepped forward, wanting to draw Merlin’s attention away from the ruins, too, draw him out of whatever despair he was feeling.

Merlin jumped, startled, when Leon put a hand on his shoulder. “Sir Leon—I didn’t hear you,” he said. “Is there something—does Arthur need me?”

Leon shook his head and kept his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. He knew he should remove it, but Merlin felt so warm and real, an anchor of breath and life in the misty courtyard, filled with the memories of death. Merlin was frowning, though, looking puzzled, and so Leon let go of him, took a step backwards.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Leon found himself saying.

Merlin sighed, and his shoulders slumped again. “Me either.”

A long, silent pause. “How is your injury?” Merlin finally asked quietly.

“Better. Still can’t manage my armor, though.”

Merlin’s jaw tightened, and he stared at the ground. Leon realized that he looked guilty, although why Merlin should feel responsible—

Leon reached out again, put his hand on Merlin’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” The words sounded forced, and the smile Merlin gave him didn’t reach his eyes. “I should go fetch Arthur’s breakfast.” And Merlin turned, quickly walking away.

**

The next morning, Leon was back on the battlements, another nightmare driving him out of his dark chambers. This time, though, he went hoping that Merlin would be there. Not that he wanted Merlin to be unhappy, but it had been nice—comforting—to be with someone he didn’t have to hide his weariness from.

Sure enough, Merlin was there—the same exact spot as yesterday. He heard Leon coming this time, and he looked surprised for a moment, but then a small smile—a real smile this time—crossed his face. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“I wish I could,” Leon said, standing next to Merlin, putting his hands on the cold stone of the battlement. “I’m dead tired all day. But every night—every night it’s the same thing,” he finished softly. He glanced at Merlin.

Merlin was staring at the tower again. “I know,” Merlin whispered. “I know.”

Leon slid his left hand slightly closer to Merlin’s, so that the sides of their fingers just touched. They didn’t talk, just watched the sun slowly filter into the courtyard. It wasn’t a lonely silence, though, and Leon could listen to Merlin’s breathing and the faint sound of his boots shifting on the stones when he moved. He could concentrate on that and ignore the memories.

**

Three more days of Leon rising, shaking and sweaty, in the gray hours of morning. Finding Merlin on the battlements. Standing quietly together until the castle began stirring around them, and they left to take up their duties.

He watched Merlin during the day, though. Watched him stumble with tiredness as he went about his chores and mumbled replies to Arthur’s orders. And he saw Merlin watching Arthur. Recognized the concern and affection and quiet devotion in Merlin’s eyes. Recognized them because the same emotions filled Leon whenever he looked at his prince.

Arthur had been working non-stop ever since the attack—overseeing the repairs to the castle and town, making sure the injured were being cared for, distributing food to those who had lost everything in the fires. And each day Arthur trained with the knights, despite the fact that he was still healing, pushing himself harder and harder as if it would be enough. As though if he worked hard enough, fought hard enough, held himself at the perfect pitch of readiness, he could stop anything like this from ever happening again.

“Perhaps you should rest,” Leon heard Merlin saying to Arthur as he handed him his helmet. “I think you’ll survive not beating someone with a sword for a few days.” Merlin attempted a light tone, but still sounded worried.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur replied, jamming on the helmet. “As though you know anything about training knights.”

And Merlin subsided, looking wretched and guilty again.

**

That night the dreams weren’t quite as bad, muted and distant. But still there—still enough to tear Leon from his sleep. He crept out into the dawn and found Merlin, who had forgotten his jacket. He was standing there, shivering with cold, but still staring, staring at that damned tower.

Leon’s hand closed around Merlin’s wrist. “Come,” he said when Merlin looked at him. “Come away from here.”

Merlin opened his mouth, but then shut it again with a sigh. He nodded, and followed when Leon started walking. Leon took them to a sheltered nook along the south wall. A few steps led down to an old, rusted iron grate. The wall extended overhead and around them and all you could see was a narrow wedge of sky. Merlin sank down onto the steps, resting his head in his hands, still shivering a little from the cold.

Leon watched him for a few moments and then sat on the step above him, knees on either side of his shoulders. He leaned forward and slid his arms around Merlin.

Merlin drew in a sharp breath. “What—?”

“You’re cold,” Leon answered, rubbing Merlin’s arms a little. “And I—” He paused, found he couldn’t go on. Couldn’t put into words his need to comfort Merlin. To draw solace from the rough fabric of Merlin’s tunic and the warmth of Merlin’s skin underneath.

Merlin didn’t move away, though, and after a minute he relaxed, leaned back a little and rested his head against Leon’s chest.

“Tomorrow morning, if you can’t sleep, come here.” Leon rested his cheek on Merlin’s soft hair. “It’s better than staring at things that can’t be changed.”

“Will you be here?” Merlin murmured.

“Yes,” Leon promised.

**

He was there, waiting, when Merlin appeared at the top of the steps the next morning. Merlin managed a smile and sat down. After a minute, Leon put his arm around him.

“What do you dream about?” Leon asked, his breath fogging in the chilly air. “I dream about the fire and—and the screaming.”

“Lady Morgana,” Merlin said in a low voice. “All the people that the dragon killed. And what would have happened if Arthur—if Arthur—” He fell silent.

“I’m worried about Arthur,” Leon said. “He’s driving himself too hard.”

“And I’m supposed to do something about it?” Merlin’s voice was sharp, angry. “I’m a servant. He doesn’t listen to me.” And Merlin tried to pull away.

“No. I’m sorry,” Leon soothed, tugging Merlin back. “I just—I see the way you watch him.”

When Merlin answered, his voice was choked, barely audible. “I’ll _always_ watch him. Always look after him. No matter—”

“No matter the cost?” Leon finished softly.

Merlin’s breath caught in his chest. He twisted suddenly, turning around, and then his mouth was on Leon’s, chapped lips rough but needy, desperate. Leon froze in surprise and then responded, feeling Merlin’s lips move against him, pushing his fingers into Merlin’s hair.

Merlin broke off, panting, and rested his forehead on Leon’s shoulder. “You would do anything, wouldn’t you?” Merlin asked. “For him? You would do anything.” His fingers dug into Leon’s tunic.

“Yes,” Leon whispered back. “I would do anything for Arthur.”

**

Gaius pronounced him well enough to wear his armor again, so Leon spent the afternoon on patrol, riding slowly, getting used to the weight once more. By the time he returned to Camelot, it was dusk. He dismounted stiffly and made his way to his chambers, asking a passing servant to fetch some hot water for him. He was just opening his door when Merlin appeared, stepping out of an alcove.

Merlin approached him slowly, head down. He stopped, fidgeted for a moment, and then blurted, “Can I stay with you? Please? Just—just for one night.”

“Of course.” Leon took Merlin’s hand and pulled him inside.

Merlin hovered awkwardly against the wall, and Leon finally asked him to light a fire. He thought he knew what Merlin wanted but wasn’t completely sure. Leon hoped he was correct, given that he had spent much of the afternoon thinking about how Merlin had tasted, remembering the hard press of his lips.

A maid brought the water, and Leon stripped off his tunic, grimacing as sore muscles protested. He reached for a cloth but Merlin’s fingers landed on his wrist, stopping him.

“Here,” Merlin said, taking the cloth and dipping it into the water. He drew it slowly over Leon’s shoulders, the hot water sliding down his back. Leon sighed, feeling the tightness in his muscles easing.

“I do this for Arthur sometimes,” Merlin murmured, now rubbing the cloth down Leon’s chest. Leon had a sudden flash of Arthur standing in the firelight, water droplets glistening on his skin, Merlin’s fingers caressing the prince. He groaned.

Merlin kissed his neck, softly. He dipped the cloth back in the water and then moved it down Leon’s arm, his other hand massaging Leon’s shoulders. Then he slid his hand down to rest on Leon’s waist. “Your breeches will get soaked. Perhaps you should take them off.” Leon could hear the teasing amusement in Merlin’s voice.

“Your clothes might get wet, too,” Leon replied.

“How kind of you to think of me, Sir Leon,” Merlin said with a laugh. It was good, to hear Merlin laugh again, and Leon turned around to look at him. Merlin flushed a little, but his fingers undid the laces of his tunic, and he pulled it over his head. His hands went to his breeches and then stopped, hesitating.

Leon stepped forward, tilted Merlin’s chin up and kissed him. “Allow me to help you,” he said, slowly drawing Merlin’s breeches down. “You are my guest, after all.”

“That—that’s true.” Merlin’s voice stuttered as Leon brushed his fingers over Merlin’s cock, already half-hard. He helped Merlin out of his boots, pulled the breeches off and tossed them aside. Then he sat back on his heels, looking at Merlin’s body. The contrast of dark hair against pale skin, the shadowed hollows by his collarbone, the way his cock stiffened further under Leon’s gaze.

“Shall we, um, move to the bed?” Merlin asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

Leon stood up and smiled at him. “I like looking at you, but all right.”

Merlin flushed again and turned to strip back the blankets. Leon kicked off his own boots and quickly shoved down his breeches. Merlin sat down on the bed and held out his hand. When Leon took it, Merlin pulled him closer, sliding back onto the mattress as he did so. Leon settled in between Merlin’s spread legs. He couldn’t help rubbing his own hard cock against Merlin’s thigh. Merlin arched his back at that and grabbed at Leon’s shoulders.

He lowered himself onto Merlin’s chest, seeking out Merlin’s mouth. His hands traveled across Merlin, soothing, comforting. Merlin moaned a little and lifted his hips, rutting against Leon.

Leon reached down to stroke Merlin, who whimpered, pushing into his hand. Leon kissed him again and started sliding his fingers further, brushed them against Merlin’s entrance.

“Wait—I—I can’t.” Merlin turned his face aside, eyes tightly shut. “It’s just that I—that I want—”

Leon smoothed his hand over Merlin’s stomach. “You want Arthur to be the one.”

Merlin’s breath hitched in his chest. “I know it’s stupid. That Arthur will never—would never _want_ to, but…”

“I understand.” Leon kissed Merlin’s cheek. He _did_ understand. The thought of Arthur doing that—feeling his lord taking him, loving him, wanting him. Dear gods, he understood.

“We can still—if you want,” Merlin whispered. He sounded unhappy again.

“I want to,” Leon assured him. He smiled and stroked Merlin’s mouth with his fingers until he coaxed a smile out of Merlin, too. Leon pulled back slightly, enough so that he could take both of their cocks in his hand. He started pumping, and Merlin tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed again.

Merlin’s orgasm hit first, his seed coating Leon’s fingers. Watching Merlin’s body jerk, hearing the sounds he made sent Leon over the edge, too. He stayed where he was for a moment, head down, breathing hard. Then he wiped his hand off on the sheet and stretched out by Merlin. Merlin moved closer, putting his arm around Leon, his fingers lightly brushing over the scars that crisscrossed Leon’s side. Merlin’s face was relaxed, though, his eyes sleepy and content. Leon let his own weariness overtake him, Merlin’s warm presence guarding him as he fell asleep.

**

He woke sometime in the middle of the night. Blessedly there had been no dream, and Merlin was still next to him, but something had disturbed him. Slowly, sleep still dulling his senses, he realized that Merlin was crying. Silently, with only a slight tremor in his shoulders, his tears cold against Leon’s chest.

“Merlin,” Leon whispered. “It’s all right.”

Merlin sniffed, and he drew away, curling into the pillow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Merlin, what is it?” Leon put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re safe here. They’re just dreams.”

Another sob shook Merlin. He was silent for several minutes, and Leon rubbed his back, tried to get Merlin to relax. Then Merlin said in a low, broken voice, “He’ll hate me. He’ll hate me when he finds out.”

“Who? Arthur?” Leon shook his head. “He could never hate you. Whatever you’ve done—”

“You’ll hate me, too.” Merlin had stopped crying, but his voice was heavy, weighted down with hopeless certainty.

“No. I won’t.” Leon found one of Merlin’s hands and held it tightly. “I promise you, Merlin; I won’t hate you. I think you’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. And you’re loyal, and kind, and—no, how could I ever hate you?” He tugged gently at Merlin. “Now come here. Let me hold you.”

Merlin sniffed again and rolled over, reached out a tentative hand, and then he was clinging tightly. Leon held him, murmuring comforting words, kissing him, until Merlin finally fell asleep.

**

Merlin often came to his chambers after that. Leon’s sleep was easier with Merlin there, but if he did wake he often found Merlin staring blankly into the darkness or curled into a tight, miserable ball. Leon did what he could—kissing Merlin, holding him gently, teasing and coaxing Merlin to an orgasm that left him limp and relaxed. But he could only do so much. The unspoken longing lay between them—a longing for calloused hands and soft blonde hair and whispered words of trust and affection. For Leon the longing was softened by a certain wistfulness, an acceptance of things as they were with only a vague hope that perhaps they could be different. But for Merlin the longing was sharp and painful, accompanied by dark thoughts that Leon did not understand.

Merlin always greeted him with a smile in the morning, though, stretching and burrowing under the blankets for a moment before reluctantly getting up and dressed. If he chanced upon Leon during the day, he often tugged him into an alcove or deserted corridor. Then Merlin would press him against the wall and kiss him thoroughly while Leon slid his hands under Merlin’s tunic.

“Have to go polish Arthur’s chainmail,” Merlin would say, breathless. And he would pull away with a grin that left Leon flustered and distracted the rest of the day, knowing that Merlin would be waiting for him that evening.

**

One day he was standing in the courtyard with Arthur, reviewing the progress that had been made on repairing the damage to the castle. Merlin suddenly came clattering down the steps, carrying a stack of Arthur’s boots. He saw Leon and smiled, then dropped several of the boots. Flushing, he bent to pick them up and hurried on his way.

“I told him to get those mended weeks ago,” Arthur muttered.

Leon realized that he had stopped in the middle of his sentence to stare at Merlin. “Forgive me, my lord,” Leon said quickly, trying not to blush. “I was just saying—”

“How is he?” Arthur interrupted, his eyes still focused on where Merlin had been. “Merlin, I mean.”

“Merlin?” Leon stammered. “I—I assume he is fine, my lord.”

Arthur’s lips quirked into a smile, and he glanced at Leon. “The two of you haven’t been careful enough for you to play that game, Leon. All it takes is one servant spreading gossip and soon the whole castle knows.” Arthur turned away again, but Leon caught a flash of something in his eyes—jealousy? Or perhaps regret?

When Arthur spoke again his voice was calm, neutral. “I’m glad that Merlin has someone. I’ve been worried about him—ever since the dragon.”

For a moment, all Leon could think about was Merlin’s lean limbs sprawled across his bed, the sound of Merlin’s laugh. His voice caught in his throat because he didn’t want to give that up. But he made himself go on. “Merlin needs you, my lord.”

“What?” Arthur turned, frowning.

“He needs you,” Leon repeated quietly. _I need you_ —the thought echoed silently in his head, but he pushed it away. “I would give Merlin everything he needs if I could—take away his fears and sadness—but I can’t. Only you can do that, my lord.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment. “Walk with me,” he finally said, jerking his head in the direction of the castle.

Leon followed as Arthur walked inside, and then proceeded to climb up a long, winding flight of stairs onto one of the towers that had escaped unscathed. They came out, blinking in the sunshine. Arthur stood by the edge, resting his hands against the stones and looking out over the town.

“You were right, you know,” Arthur finally said. “I should never have allowed Merlin to come with us to face the dragon.” He laughed, a low, bitter sound. “And I lied when I said the only reason I allowed it was because Merlin would never have stayed. I could have locked him in the dungeon, knocked him out, given him one of Gaius’s sleeping draughts.”

Arthur turned abruptly to face Leon. “I was selfish. I let him come because I couldn’t stand not having him there with me.” Arthur shook his head slowly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die. And I didn’t want to be alone to face whatever—whatever comes after. But I thought that if anyone would be there with me, it would be Merlin. That we could die but he would still somehow follow me, like—like he always does.” Arthur drew a shaky breath. “I should have been protecting him and instead I let him ride out with us because I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

Leon stepped forward and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Tell him. Tell him how you feel. He won’t blame you.” Leon smiled. “He loves you, my lord.” _As do I_.

**

Leon wasn’t surprised when Merlin didn’t show up in his chambers that night. He told himself he was glad, but couldn’t stop the regret that assailed him when he climbed into his cold bed or the lonely feeling when he awoke in the middle of the night.

He tried to go about his duties normally the next day, tried not to look up hopefully whenever he heard footsteps, thinking that perhaps it might be Merlin. He didn’t see Merlin, though, and Arthur spent most of the day in a meeting with the council. Leon ate supper with the other knights that evening, managing to laugh at their jokes. When he left the hall, a servant intercepted him.

“Prince Arthur requests your presence in his chambers,” the servant said, giving a quick bow.

Leon sighed. He rather wished Arthur had chosen somewhere else for whatever it was he wanted to discuss. Probably he wanted Leon’s opinion on the latest group of young noblemen hoping to be accepted into the knighthood.

When Leon knocked on the door, it opened silently. At first, Leon did not see anyone, and he stepped further inside, frowning. And then suddenly Merlin was there, pressing an eager and affectionate kiss on his mouth.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Leon tried to say, although it came out rather muffled. He broke off the kiss and managed to pry Merlin away. “We’re in the _prince’s_ chambers. And I thought you and he were—”

“Oh, we are,” Merlin replied, grinning.

“But we would like you to join us,” a voice whispered in Leon’s ear. Strong arms wrapped around him, and he could feel Arthur’s breath on his neck.

Leon swallowed hard, afraid for a second that his legs might give way. “My lord?” he managed, voice shaking.

Merlin stepped closer, cupping Leon’s face in his hands and kissing him again, gentle this time. “Arthur,” he murmured. “Call him Arthur.”

The prince tugged, turning Leon around to face him. Arthur looked slightly uncertain, and Merlin gave Leon an encouraging push. Leon slowly slid one of his hands across Arthur’s chest. Arthur sighed and leaned into it. Leon put his other hand on the back of Arthur’s neck, tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair. Arthur tilted his head slightly, and Leon leaned forward to kiss him, hardly daring to believe that this was happening.

Arthur kissed him back, and Leon felt Merlin’s fingers on his waist, toying with the ties of his breeches, dipping lower to rub him through the cloth. Leon moaned into Arthur’s mouth.

“Impatient, isn’t he?” Arthur said with a laugh.

“ _You’re_ the one who accosted me in a corridor this afternoon,” Merlin retorted.

Arthur gave a mock sigh. “Help me with him, won’t you, Leon?” He caught Merlin in his arms and started inching up his tunic, revealing pale skin and a trail of dark hair.

Leon knelt down in front of Merlin, slowly easing his breeches off.

“Already hard for us, aren’t you?” Arthur murmured, and Merlin gave a little moan that turned into a whimper when Leon brushed his thumb over the head of Merlin’s cock. “Oh, I like that noise,” Arthur continued, stroking his hands over Merlin’s bare chest. “Touch him again, Leon.”

Leon did, and then leaned forward to suck the tip into his mouth. Merlin made a louder noise, his hips bucking forward. Chuckling, Arthur turned Merlin around and kissed him, burying his fingers in Merlin’s hair.

Leon scooted forward and slid his hands up Arthur thighs. Arthur stilled for a moment and then nodded, not taking his mouth away from Merlin’s. Leon undid the laces of Arthur’s breeches and pulled them down. Arthur was hard, too, and Merlin pressed forward a little so that their cocks rubbed against each other. Leon reached out and fitted his hand around both of them, stroking.

“Fuck,” Arthur gasped. “I’m not going to last if you— _unh_ —keep doing that.”

Merlin drew off Arthur’s tunic. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Perhaps you should go wait for us on the bed, if you can’t handle—”

Arthur cut him off with another rough kiss. “I assure you, Merlin, that I will have no _problem_ handling the two of you.”

Merlin smirked and reached down to tug Leon to his feet. “Is that so? I think we should see if Arthur is true to his word.”

Leon pressed a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. “I could never doubt your word,” he said softly. Arthur’s eyes softened, and he smiled.

“As though his ego wasn’t big enough as it is,” Merlin muttered, trying to sound irritated but not quite succeeding.

**

They finally managed to strip off all their clothes and crawl onto Arthur’s bed. Leon found himself lying on the pillows with Merlin on top of him, while Arthur ran his hands down Merlin’s back.

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin said, resting his head on Leon’s chest. “Please.”

Arthur fumbled for a bottle of oil and dipped his fingers into it. Leon watched as Arthur slowly eased a finger into Merlin. Arthur’s face was so open, stripped of the usual calm, authoritative expression. Merlin’s fingers were gripping Leon’s arms tightly.

Leon suddenly realized that this was the first time they were doing this. “Didn’t you—last night—I thought that…” He trailed off as Merlin raised his head.

“I wanted you to be here, too,” Merlin said. He sighed and nuzzled Leon’s jaw. “Hold me.”

Leon wrapped his arms around Merlin, kissed his hair as Arthur worked in another finger. Then Arthur pulled back, slicked his cock with the oil. “Turn him around,” Arthur said in a hoarse voice, and Leon maneuvered Merlin onto his back, cradling him in his arms again. Arthur slid forward between Merlin’s spread legs. When he started to enter Merlin, Merlin jerked a little, tensing.

“Relax,” Leon murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Merlin nodded, raising his hips a little.

Arthur pushed forward again. “That’s it, Merlin. Gods, you feel so good.”

When Arthur started thrusting, he bent his head, sought out Merlin’s mouth. Leon kept one hand on Merlin and moved his other to stroke Arthur’s arm, brush back his sweaty hair. Arthur groaned and tore his lips from Merlin’s to kiss Leon. It was almost desperate, Merlin in between them, moaning as Arthur fucked him. Merlin’s body rubbed against Leon’s cock, and Leon thought he might come from that alone.

Arthur groaned once more and pushed into Merlin, hips jerking as he came. He stayed in Merlin for a long moment, breathing heavily, and then slowly pulled out. Merlin whimpered a little, and Leon tilted his head so that he could kiss him. Arthur sat back on his knees and trailed his finger lightly along Merlin’s cock. Merlin shuddered and came, too, his seed covering his stomach. He lay limply in Leon’s arms as Arthur drew his fingers through the come. Arthur held them up and Leon sucked them into his mouth, tasting Merlin. Arthur’s other hand gripped the sheets, and Merlin groaned.

“Budge over,” Arthur said, breathless, giving Merlin a little push. Merlin rolled over onto his side, still pressed against Leon. Arthur stretched out on Leon’s other side and took Leon’s cock in his hand, slowly pumping it. Leon shut his eyes and leaned back, reveling in the sensations.

“Tomorrow, I think I’ll have you take me. Merlin can watch and then we’ll hold him down, take turns sucking him, keep him from coming until he’s begging for it,” Arthur said. He leaned down and licked one of Leon’s nipples. “Or maybe we’ll get Merlin on his knees and you can take that tight arse while I fill his mouth with my cock.”

Merlin was making noises, biting lightly at Leon’s thigh.

“Or perhaps—” Arthur continued, but it was too much—Leon’s orgasm shot through him, white hot, leaving him trembling and panting.

They lay there quietly. Leon felt pleasantly drowsy. He was stroking Merlin’s hair with one hand, his other around Arthur. Arthur had draped his arm over Leon’s chest, resting his head in the space between Leon’s neck and shoulder.

“Someone should put another log on the fire,” Merlin said after a while.

Arthur snorted. “Yes, Merlin. I think someone should do that.”

Merlin grumbled and started to move, but Leon stopped him. “I’ll get it,” he said, ruffling Merlin’s hair. “You stay here.”

He heard Merlin say to Arthur, “See, that’s what’s called gallantry. As you obviously don’t know what it is.”

There was a scuffling noise, accompanied by Arthur’s, “You are the laziest, most insolent servant I’ve ever had.”

When Leon turned back to the bed, Arthur had pinned Merlin down and was staring into his eyes.

“I’m not lazy,” Merlin said. “And I’m only insolent when you deserve it.”

Arthur laughed. “Let me give that mouth of yours something better to do.” He kissed Merlin, short, fond little brushes of his lips.

Leon slid back into the bed next to them, pulling up the blankets. By an unspoken agreement, he and Arthur kept Merlin in between them. Merlin’s back was against Leon’s chest, and he gripped one of Leon’s hands in his own. Arthur stayed propped up on one elbow, looking down at Merlin.

“Go to sleep,” Arthur said softly, brushing Merlin’s cheek with his fingers.

It didn’t take long before Merlin’s eyes closed, and his breathing evened out, slow and deep.

“He’s such an idiot,” Arthur whispered in a fond voice. “Always throwing himself into danger without a second thought.” He leaned down to lightly kiss Merlin’s forehead. “You’ll help me protect him, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Leon promised. _Just as I’ll protect you._

That night, memories of pain and fire and death did not trouble their sleep, and they woke to tangled limbs and soft kisses in the morning.


End file.
